Down and down they drove, faster than meteor ever fell. A mile above the ground the jets behind died, and yellow flame burst ahead of them, flaring quickly to white. They slowed, poised, and then, in perfect unison, spun off to one side. They came around in a great circle and dived at the ground again. And repeated the operation, over and over. And abruptly Nolan saw what was happening. He was witnessing the systematic annihilation of the domed settlement! Immense bursts of fire from ship-sized pyros were blazing into the ground. The hummocks prevented a dear view, but Nolan could see from the reflected glare on the mountainsides behind that the destruction was frightful. "I called them," Petersen said softly. "You saw me call them. That black box--it's a telesonde." Nolan didn't turn, fascinated by the sight. "What's a telesonde?" he asked absently. "A radio that carries neither voice nor vision. Only one note short or long depending on how long the key is held down. Your great-great-grandfather knew about it. It was the first method of wireless communication. Now it's so completely forgotten that when TPL researchers dug it up it was adopted as the most secret method of communication available." Nolan nodded his head. The ships came around again, and down. This time the forward jets were delayed. When they flared out they persisted, while the ships dropped gently out of sight. They were landing. The destruction of the dome was complete. Nolan turned away. "Quite a sight," he said slowly. "They deserved to die, of course...." "Steve." Nolan's eyes narrowed suddenly. He looked at Petersen. "Yes?" * * * * * Petersen, for once, seemed almost at a loss for words. He licked his lips before he spoke. "Steve--there are one or two other things. Did you know that Ailse wasn't Woller's daughter by blood?" Nolan looked at him unbelievingly. "Not his daughter?" Petersen shook his head. "Woller married a widow. A wealthy one, with a daughter. They didn't get along too well. The woman died. Some people thought it might be suicide." The quick joy flooded up in Nolan. Petersen saw it and his face grew somber. "That's one of the things, Steve," he said. "The other one--Hell, this is hard to say." Nolan stood up and the joy was gone from his face. "Damn you, Pete," he said emotionlessly. "Don't break things gently to me." Petersen shrugged. "Ailse wasn't anywhere we could find her--and we know a lot of places to look in. The ship left to come here. She was at Woller's home till just before then. Woller sent men to bring something from his apartment to the ship. I thought it was papers at the time--but it could have been a girl. So--where does that leave Ailse?" Where? Nolan stood rocklike as the thought trickled through the automatic barrier his mind had set up. Where did it leave Ailse? A charred fragment of what had once been beauty. A castoff target for TPL's searching pyros.